Showing posts tagged prose.
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it made my heart beat

Happiness hurts.
It makes one sensitive and sad.

twitter.com/thedaysbetween:

    "Some one said: ‘The dead writers are remote from us because we know so much more than they did.’ Precisely, and they are that which we know."
    T. S. Eliot, from “Tradition and the Individual” (via proustitute)
    — 2 years ago with 110 notes
    #T.S. Eliot  #poetry  #lit  #prose  #criticism  #writing  #tradition  #knowledge 
    "I could define poetry this way: it is that which is lost out of both prose and verse in translation."
    Robert Frost, Conversations on the Craft of Poetry (via bookoasis)

    (via bookoasis-deactivated20120227)

    — 2 years ago with 41 notes
    #lit  #poetry  #Robert Frost  #prose  #verse  #translation 
    "You may tell a tale that takes up residence in someone’s soul, becomes their blood and self and purpose. That tale will move them and drive them and who knows that they might do because of it, because of your words. That is your role, your gift."
    Erin Morgenstern, The Night Circus (via whylovememylove)
    — 2 years ago with 4 notes
    #Morgenstern  #The Night Circus  #Prose  #Lit  #Writing  #Tale  #Soul  #Gift 
    "A word is not the same with one writer as with another. One tears it from his guts. The other pulls it out of his overcoat pocket."
    Charles Péguy (via wwnorton)

    (via proustitute)

    — 2 years ago with 402 notes
    #Charles Péguy  #lit  #prose  #words  #writing  #writers 
    "To be mad is to feel with excruciating intensity the sadness and joy of a time which has not arrived or has already been. And to protect their delicate vision of that other time, madmen will justify their condition with touching loyalty, and surround it with a thousand distractive schemes. These schemes, in turn, drive them deeper and deeper into the darkness and light (which is their mortification and their reward), and confront them with a choice. They may either slacken and fall back, accepting the relief of a rational view and the approval of others, or they may push on, and, by falling, arise. When and if by their unforgivable stubbornness they finally burst through to worlds upon worlds of motionless light, they are no longer called afflicted or insane. They are called saints."
    Mark Helprin (via quercetum)

    (Source: accidentalism)

    — 3 years ago with 6 notes
    #lit  #quotes  #prose  #Mark Helprin